It could be a dream
It could be a dream
am I still capable
of dreaming
of a life
as simple
as harmony
of blue sky
and white clouds?It’s July 5th.half of the year has slipped away.
I've written only 6 poems
three mere revisions
of what once was.am I feeling sad about this?
yes.
maybe, more, no. in a race against time
or merely being human,
I've known from the start
that something defining us
is fading, soon vanishing
without a trace -
permanentlythe sum of our lives
reduces to numbers,
blown away
by the wind
of Time
here, now
in the age of AI
I bid farewell
to whom we once were,
capable of being amazed
by a dandelion
dancing in the sunlight
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